I sensed you

I was out exploring with Venus when I knocked and she opened the door. The night with her had been too short, and there I was—for the third time, the right time.

She was just serving a few hungry tourists outside when she suddenly stopped and saw me approaching, at first unsure who that figure might be.

Dark brown jeans, a black coat with the wind playing beneath it, a dark green T-shirt, and a brown hat. And so I floated resolutely toward her. This time, armed against the poison in Cupid’s arrows—I’d made my own antidote—I prepared myself for the battlefield that lay ahead. She smiled.

“So you’re wearing a hat after all?”
“Yes, a hand-me-down from my grandfather, and it still fits!”
“I was going to write back to you today, but I sensed you were coming.”
“Yeah, I just couldn’t resist…”
“Too bad you have to head back so soon, because I don’t finish work until later today, but if you have to catch the train, you’ll only get to see me serve, and it’ll be just like last time—brief.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll manage somehow; if I have to, I’ll sleep on the beach, in a beach hut somewhere.”

The best possible scenario unfolded.

“Gee, I wouldn’t do that if I were you—they’ll chase you away. You know, you can stay at my aunt’s rental cottage; she’s traveling, and I’m staying there temporarily too.”

I nodded no.

“I don’t want to bother you.”
“Oh, so are you going to bother me?” she said with a wink. I started to blush.
“No, it’s just, I, uh.”
“Don’t worry, I still have an air mattress, and I’ll just set it up in the living room. I’m glad to have company tonight—someone other than those alpha guys who are always bothering me here.”

Finally, we were together again; I was gasping for breath from nerves. At first, I didn’t really know what to say without sounding too serious or just coming across as a fool—it was
hard to find that balance between a neurotic Woody Allen character and a heavy-handed character from a Bergman film.

“You really shouldn’t stress out—there’s no need for that.”
“Um, thanks. I just don’t have much experience yet with, well, um, going out with another woman, and, well, I… but, um, I’m guessing you already have a boyfriend?”
“Um, yeah, you’re right—I do have a boyfriend, but I didn’t want to tell you right away, because that might have scared you off and… I wanted to get to know you better.”

This was both sweet and painful at the same time.

“Okay, I appreciate your honesty, and yes, I want to get to know you better, too.”
“That’s nice,” she smiled sweetly.
“You know, that first night we talked, I told my boyfriend about it, and he got furious—we had a huge fight. I knew he was jealous, but I didn’t expect this. In the end, we just talked it out…” She hesitated; for a moment, it seemed as if she was embarrassed, but then she composed herself.
“But I do like to have a good argument every now and then,” she said, looking me straight in the eyes.
“You’re beautiful,” I said, without thinking this time.

She blushed.

“Thank you. I’d better not tell him that—and maybe you should keep it to yourself, too.” She gently touched my hand, then quickly pulled it back.

What a woman! I thought. The rest of the evening went smoothly, though perhaps a little too tame; I managed to listen with interest without delving too deeply myself. At least, that was until night fell.

The night was hell, pure masochism. We went to her aunt’s vacation home. Small but cozy, and like all vacation homes, painted blue and white and decorated with seaside motifs—paintings of fishing boats and sayings meant to make you feel like the vacation will last forever.

We settled in; she gave me the air mattress, which I inflated, and she was clearly tired herself—there was suddenly a kind of hesitation in her gaze, which led her to wish me a dry “good night” rather quickly and point me toward my sleeping spot. But my imagination told me she was waiting for me, that I should crawl into bed with her, instead of lying in the corner next to that humming refrigerator.

It took more than an hour before I had the courage to knock softly on her bedroom door. I stood still—did I just hear something? I opened her door and saw her lying there, under the down comforter and clearly asleep. Not a single eye open, no look that said, “Are you finally here?” Just a young woman who was tired from her work, our conversation, and who might even have felt a little guilty toward her boyfriend.

She was asleep, and I was allowed to spend the night close to her. In complete trust. So, now I just had to wait and see. Besides, I’d already taken quite a few steps; now it was her turn to take the initiative. I couldn’t force anything—this was still too delicate. She must have realized by now how I felt, and I had to respect that she still had feelings for her boyfriend. So the choice was hers. That’s what I told myself as I drifted off to sleep. But it seemed to take an eternity before my thoughts finally settled.

In the morning, she came out of the room, cheerful, as if nothing was wrong and I was just another friend who’d spent the night on her floor. She was wearing light blue boxer shorts with white stripes and a white tank top, her breasts loosely and neatly concealed.

“I slept wonderfully—and you, did you manage on that mattress?”

“Yeah, it was fine. A little hard because of the hum of the fridge, but I put my earbuds in and listened to a boring podcast, so it was okay after that.”

She laughed and gave me a nudge in the side. I jumped out of bed as cheerfully as I could, my clothes already half on, since I’d woken up early.

“I’ll go get breakfast, so you can get ready at your own pace,” I said.
“I’d definitely appreciate that.”

Breakfast went just as it should. We were friendly at the table; she’d occasionally tap away on her cell phone, and I’d follow her movements, watching her. She’d clearly put on a mask now. Were we in the friend zone because I hadn’t made a move, or was it a distance she was consciously keeping? After the last chocolate croissant was gone and she’d filled her bottle with tea, we said goodbye.

“Well, it was nice; you were a gentleman and good company. Today, uh… my boyfriend is coming by later… so.”
“Um, I’ll just let you focus on your work and… I’ll figure something out on my own; I’m going to enjoy the sea a bit more and reminisce about last night’s lovely evening,” I said with a smile that was just a little too wide and forced.
“Yeah, good idea. Enjoy the sea, and we’ll see each other again when the academic year starts?”
“Yeah, I’ll definitely stop by then. It was at the fish market, right?”
“Yeah, the sea just keeps haunting me,” she joked half-heartedly.

I hesitated for a moment; she was shifting her weight a bit, but then I gave her a firm, manly hug—a brief one. Not too long, because then it might have turned into something more, and she clearly didn’t want that.

It suddenly felt heavy, as if I had a chance at something more. But some things you can’t—and shouldn’t—force; of that I was convinced.

On my way home, I wrote the following small poem.

Retro

Oh, heavenly human imagination,
why do you make it so hard for me,
why do you make my brain spin,
inventing endless little stories,
when it really shouldn’t be,
and when I’m truly looking for you,
you’ve run away,
you’ve left me behind
with this huge feeling,
like an angry hangover!